I Still Hate You, Harry Potter
by llamajo
Summary: In fifth year, after Harry Potter has his vision concerning Sirius, he gets caught red-handed in Umbridge's office, along with the others. At the time, Malfoy is made to stay behind while Umbridge leaves with Harry and Hermione. What would happen, however, if Malfoy were to come along? HPDM preslash, Draco's POV, oneshot.


**Title: **I Still Hate You, Harry Potter

**Disclaimer: **All Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling and associates. I am writing this story for fun, and am making no money in the process.

**Summary: **In fifth year, after Harry Potter has his vision concerning Sirius, he gets caught red-handed in Umbridge's office, along with the others. At the time, Malfoy is made to stay behind while Umbridge leaves with Harry and Hermione. What would happen, however, if Malfoy were to come along? HPDM preslash, Draco's POV, oneshot.

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco (one-sided)

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Smut, perverted thoughts, profanity, oblivious Harry.

**Author's Notes: **Well, I've been meaning to get something out here for a while. I definitely did not expect my first story to be this, though. Hmm. Oh, well. This is just a little scene I imagined about what I think could have happened if Draco had went along with Umbridge, Harry, and Hermione to see Dumbledore's "weapon".  
**IMPORTANT:** The dialogue in the scene in Umbridge's office comes directly from the book; just giving credit where credit is due. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**I Still Hate You, Harry Potter **

Draco had been in the middle of telling a wonderful joke that involved Harry Pothead when Umbridge came tottering into the Great Hall at top speed, immediately waving to her Inquisitorial Squad, which consisted completely of Slytherins, most of whom joined simply because Draco told them to. At the sight of Umbridge, Draco stood and went to meet her at the entrance to the hall, the other Slytherins following close behind.

"Mr. Filch has just informed me –" Umbridge took a few heaving breaths, her cheeks flushed with ugly blotches of red, her bow tie slightly askew, "that that _damned_ poltergeist has begun smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes." She continued breathing heavily for a few moments, and Draco felt a deep regret that he was standing right in front of her, forced to feel her putrid breath cascade over his face in hot waves of filth.

"We are going to stop him once and for all, he'll be gone for good –" Umbridge continued as Draco and his housemates followed her away from the Great Hall.

Draco stopped listening to her high-pitched voice quite effortlessly, and tried not to sneer too visibly as he glared at the short, fat, tight-covered legs bustling ahead of him. The group had just turned the corner, heading to the room where the telescopes are stored, when suddenly a person with very red hair came galloping down the corridor, and then the Weasley King himself was standing in front of them, freckled face flushed and chest heaving.

"Professor Umbridge," Weasley began, not even mustering up a glare for Draco, which told him that Weasley must really be quite desperate, "Something horrible has happened! I've just seen Peeves smashing up the Transfiguration department! It's terrible; you have to come quick!"

Weasley said this all so fast that some of his words blurred together, and Umbridge ended up looking at him with a ridiculous expression on her face, apparently speechless. Draco, on the other hand, merely raised his eyebrows in question, because Umbridge had just said Peeves was messing with the telescopes, which meant that Weasley was lying. The only question to answer now was why.

_Potter is probably doing something stupid_, Draco thought. An eager kind of glee filled him. Vince made a sound behind Draco, but was silenced when Draco held up a hand. He was anxious to see what Umbridge would do.

Umbridge had finally opened her wide mouth, probably to tell Weasley to shove off, when, quite suddenly, her back went very straight and rigid, and she stood very still, as if listening to something. Draco watched, and in the next moment, her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head, and her mouth widened even further into a wicked grin. Draco would have backed away a step, from the crazed look in her eye, had he been a lesser man.

Umbridge seemed to come back to herself, and her eyes focused on Weasley, who was standing there with a nervous expression on his face.

"Grab him!" Umbridge squealed, pointing a pudgy finger at Weasley. Then she wheeled around, heading back the way they came. Draco followed immediately, eager to see what would happen.

An older Slytherin by the name of Warrington took hold of Weasley's robes and dragged him along behind them. Draco spared him a glance over his shoulder, and saw, to his delight, that Weasley looked as if he were about to shit himself. Draco laughed and walked faster, so that he was almost tripping over Umbridge. He had a feeling Potter was in her office (because he's an idiot like that) and he wanted to be the first to see exactly what would happen when Umbridge found him.

They reached the corridor holding Umbridge's office, which was uncharacteristically empty, and found Loony Lovegood, the Weaselette, and Neville Longbottom standing outside the door, acting as sentries.

Umbridge made a loud sound that was somewhere between outraged and something else Draco didn't want to define. She surged forward toward the door of her office, going past the Weasley girl and Longbottom, who looked at her with surprise etched into every line of their faces.

Draco followed Umbridge into her office, hardly even noticing that his fellow Slytherins were struggling to restrain the stupid Gryffindors and clueless Ravenclaw. He knew they would have no real trouble, and all of his attention was focused on the person kneeling on the hard floor with his head in the flames of Umbridge's fire. So focused was his attention that he didn't even look when Granger squealed over by the desk, and all he could do was watch as Umbridge made a sound of triumph and went forward, pulling Potter out of the fire by the neck of his robes, none too gently.

Potter coughed and choked on the ashes as he came out of the flames, looking positively alarmed, and Draco found that his heart was beating erratically in his chest, and his palms were sweating, and he was smiling widely, almost as wide as Umbridge, but not quite; his mouth just wasn't that wide naturally.

Umbridge had a solid grip on Potter's hair, and was pulling his head back so that his throat was bared; he was still on his knees, and Umbridge looked down at him as if she would slit his throat then and there. Draco wanted to spend a moment appreciating Potter's position; throat bared coaxingly, back bent so far that his hands flailed uselessly at his sides, trying to find purchase on the floor, and an expression of dear pain on his face. It would have been absolutely perfect if Draco was the one who was holding him captive; as it was, Draco wanted to tell Umbridge to get her dirty, grimy fingers out of Potter's hair.

Instead, he watched as Umbridge's face gained more color than was healthy, and listened as she said, practically spitting into Potter's upturned face, "You think," she bent Potter's head back even further, so that he was looking at the ceiling, "that after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy."

Draco was in between feeling happiness that Potter was in such trouble, and irritation that Umbridge was man-handling him (that was _his_ job, dammit!), but then Umbridge barked "take his wand," and Draco was only too happy to oblige. He moved forward and felt a tingle of excitement rush through him as he pulled back Potter's robes and forced his hand into the chest pocket, groping for his wand and feeling some of his muscles in the process. Draco found the wand much too soon for his taste (he wouldn't have minded searching longer), but he pulled it out, and eyed it with a smirk.

Draco moved back a few steps, deciding to lean against the nearest windowsill, as Umbridge told Millicent to take the Mudblood's wand. Draco didn't even spare them a glance; his gaze was fixed on Potter, on the way his hair fell back so that his lightning bolt scar was revealed, on the way he gritted his teeth as he knelt there, seemingly powerless to get up.

"I want to know why you are in my office," Umbridge said, shaking his head back and forth, seething anger emanating from every pore in her body.

"I was – trying to get my Firebolt!" Potter said in a choked voice.

"Liar." Umbridge didn't shout this time, but she gripped Potter's hair with new-found vigor and shook his head roughly enough to make him suck in a breath. "Your Firebolt is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?" Her voice remained girlish and sweet, and Draco shivered in revulsion. He didn't turn away, though, as Potter made a pathetic effort to defend himself.

"No one –" he began, and he tried to pull away from Umbridge. She didn't let go.

_"Liar!"_ Umbridge shouted into his face, before throwing him into her desk. Potter hit it with the left side of his body and got up immediately, looking around, acting as if it was no big deal to be slammed into desks by your Professor. Draco thought there was something weird about that, but the thought left him as Potter's eyes found his, and he smirked viciously, tossing Potter's wand up in the air and catching it with one hand. Potter glared at him, fire in his eyes.

The door to Umbridge's office burst open, and the Slytherins who were outside rounding up the losers came in; the four captives had been gagged. Draco approved.

"Got 'em all," Warrington said as he shoved Weasley ahead of him. "_That_ one," he gestured to Nevillle, "tried to stop me taking_ her_," he pointed at the Weasley girl, who was kicking at the shins of the largest girl in Slytherin, something Greengrass, not Daphne, but maybe a relative? Draco found that it didn't matter and he didn't care.

Warrington finished his unnecessary speech and Umbridge said, "Good, good. Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?"

Draco cackled with laughter, completely ecstatic. Most of the time, he hated Umbridge; even though he was part of her Inquisitorial Squad, he knew she was a vile, worthless type of woman. The only reason he listened to her was so that he had privileges that no other students had, such as being able to take away house points, and also because if he was her ally, that meant he wouldn't get in trouble. Smart, right? Potter, of course, was too naive to think that way, and so he stupidly made Umbridge his enemy on the first day of term.

Draco had to admit, though, even to himself, that the _real_ reason why he joined up with Umbridge was for moments like these. Oh, he could say that it was for the powers that came along with it, and a small portion of it was, but mostly, he always wanted to be there when Potter was in trouble; he wanted to be the one to turn Potter in, and he wanted to be the one that Potter glared at. Being with Umbridge let him have all of those things, and he even got to be cruel and not get in trouble. It was joyous.

Draco returned to himself as Umbridge sat down on a chintz armchair and said, "So, Potter. You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon," she nodded at Weasley, and Draco laughed aloud, mostly out of surprise, "to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes, Mr. Filch having just informed me so.

"Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody," she continued. "Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone..."

Draco was joined in his laughter this time by the rest of the Squad, and he watched avidly as Potter seemed to shake with rage.

"It's none of your business who I talk to," he snarled, and Draco just _loved_ it when his voice dropped into that growl.

Umbridge's complacent smile turned into a sneer. "Very well," she said, trying to sound sweet, and failing miserably. "Very well, Mr. Potter... I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco – fetch Professor Snape."

Draco nodded imperceptibly and put Potter's wand, which he had been holding this whole time, into his own robe pocket. He left the room smirking at Potter, and when he got into the hall he moved Potter's wand from its current pocket to another, better pocket, one which would ensure that Potter's wand would stay with Draco until he willingly gave it up (which would not happen anytime soon) due to a special jinx his mother had put into the fabric.

Draco touched said pocket almost lovingly as he strolled briskly toward Snape's dungeon classroom. He was a bit annoyed that Umbridge had sent him to fetch Snape, but he supposed it was the most logical thing to do, since he was the only one not holding another student hostage.

Draco knew that Snape would be in his office, since classes were done for the day and it was almost dinner time. He reached Snape's door in a remarkably fast time, if he did say so himself, and knocked smartly before entering. Snape was in the middle of grading a paper, but he looked up and raised one slick eyebrow when he saw Draco.

"The Headmistress would like to speak with you, sir," Draco told him politely.

The Professor frowned and followed Draco out the door without replying.

They walked in silence back to Umbridge's office, Draco successfully hiding his grin, thinking of all the horrible things Snape could do and say to Potter, his least favorite student.

_This is the most exhilarated I've felt all year_, Draco thought as he swept through the door, closely followed by Snape. He immediately went back to his position near the window, where he had a premium view of everything that was going on.

Snape made his presence known, and Umbridge looked away from Potter, saying, "Ah, Professor Snape." She stood up from the armchair and continued, "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

Draco raised his eyebrows in incredulity; Umbridge made it sound as if Veritaserum grew on trees!

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," Snape said. Draco sneaked a glace at Potter (he would have liked to see that!) but his face was completely blank. Draco frowned.

"Surely you did not use it all?" the Professor continued, "I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed, and Draco wanted to laugh in her face. She must really hate Potter.

"You can make some more, can't you?" the fat woman asked, a fake smile plastered to her face.

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" Umbridge retorted, flushing even redder. "A _month?_ But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" Snape drawled, showing some interest at last. He turned his gaze on Potter, and they stared at each other as he continued, "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules." Student and teacher stared into each other's eyes, and Draco became slightly mesmerized by the look on Potter's face; one of grim determination.

Then Umbridge interrupted by repeating, "I wish to interrogate him! I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," Snape said, returning his gaze to her, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter – and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did – (Draco's face broke out into a smile) I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling..."

Umbridge shrieked that she was putting Snape on probation for being unhelpful, and he bowed, sneering, about to leave the office, when Potter said something most interesting.

"He's got Padfoot!" Potter shouted. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

_What?_ That sounded like complete and utter nonsense to Draco, but Snape stopped with his hand on the door handle, his back straight. It must have meant something to him. Draco felt a rush of anger and irritation at not knowing what Potter was talking about. Judging by Umbridge's reaction, she felt the same way.

"Padfoot?" she yelped, "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Snape looked back at Potter, and his face was an empty wall. "I have no idea," he conceded. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

He closed the door briskly, leaving both Potter and Umbridge looking extremely frustrated. Umbridge spoke into the silence.

"Very well," she said, taking out her short wand. "Very well... I am left with no alternative... this is more than a matter of school discipline... this is an issue of Ministry security... yes... yes..."

Draco's eyes widened as he watched Umbridge. He could be mistaken (not likely), but it seemed as if Umbridge was... _nervous_ about something. She whipped her wand into her palm and stared at Potter, breathing heavily and pacing back and forth. Draco leaned forward. Umbridge was mostly talking nonsense to herself, but he had a feeling she was about to do something important.

"You are forcing me, Potter..." she continued. "I do not want to, but sometimes circumstances justify the use... I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice..." Draco still didn't know what she was going on about, not until she said, "The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue."

"No!" the Mudblood screamed, and Draco wondered why she wasn't gagged like the others. "Professor Umbridge – it's illegal" – Granger went on, but Umbridge ignored her. She had an excited look on her face, like she had been dreaming of doing this, and was only waiting for the right opportunity, which had finally come.

Umbridge raised her wand, and Granger went berserk. Draco wished he could smack her. "The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!" Draco had to admit that might have persuaded Umbridge; she wouldn't do anything to disappoint her beloved _Minister_. To Draco's surprise, though, it wasn't good enough.

"What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him," said Umbridge. She pointed her wand at different parts of Potter's body; first his head, then his chest, then his neck, and all the while, Potter looked at Umbridge with the deepest loathing in his face, not a trace of fear in him...

"He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer," Umbridge continued, apparently to herself, "but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same..."

"It was _you?_" Potter gasped, and Draco gasped as well, astonished. "_You_ sent the dementors after me?"

Draco looked from Potter's flabbergasted face to Umbridge's triumphant one, and changed his perception of her. Draco had thought that the Dark Lord had sent the dementors after Potter, but to find that this woman was the one who did was quite outrageous. Didn't she realize that the dementors could have easily _killed_ Potter, or worse? Draco hated Potter, but not so much he wanted him to _die. _

Draco came back to himself when he realized that Umbridge had finished speaking and was about to cast the Unforgivable at Potter. She was halfway through the incantation when Granger shouted, "NO!"

She squirmed behind Millicent, but gave up a moment later. "No – Harry – Harry, we'll have to tell her!"

"No way!" Potter yelled back at her, and Draco's curiosity increased tenfold.

"We'll have to, Harry, she'll force it out of you anyway, what's... what's the point?" The Mudblood began to cry into Millicent's robes, and Draco didn't blame her for moving away.

"Well, well, well!" Umbridge spoke. "Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

The Weasel King said something around his gag that resembled Granger's first name, and the other Gryffindors were gazing at her as if they'd never actually seen her before. Draco was a bit surprised himself; the girl who punched him in third year didn't seem like the type of person who would cry and give up plans to an enemy, even if it was the smart thing to do.

"I'm – I'm sorry everyone," Granger sobbed. Draco glared at her. "But – I can't stand it –"

"That's right, that's right, girl!" Umbridge practically squealed, grabbing the Mudblood's shoulders and thrusting her into the abandoned chair, leaning over her in a very inappropriate manner. "Now then... with whom was Potter communicating just now?"

Granger said that they had been trying to contact Dumbledore, which Draco thought was quite plausible, but then she said that they had looked for him in places like the Leaky Cauldron and the Three Broomsticks, and Draco did a double take. Why on _earth_ would Dumbledore be in either of those places? Doesn't she know that a good number of Fudge's Aurors are currently assigned to the single task of locating the Headmaster? Draco huffed. Maybe Granger was one of those people who was only smart academically, and was really lacking common sense in the real world.

Draco was prepared to stand and pretend to be attentive, not wanting to listen to Granger's whimpering, when he heard something that genuinely caught his attention.

"We wanted to tell him it's r-ready!"

Umbridge demanded to know what she was talking about, and a moment later, Granger peered between her fingers and said, in a hushed voice, "The... the weapon."

Draco was so surprised that he paid no attention to what Umbridge said next. Dumbledore had actually entrusted Potter and his group of Gryffindors with a weapon? No. Oh, hell no. Draco looked at Potter, trying to keep his own face expressionless (which didn't matter, since everyone was looking at Granger anyway). Potter was no exception, his gaze locked on Granger's face, his visage surprised, but not angry. Draco looked closer, and saw no traces of anger or annoyance at all, which he would have thought would be present on Potter's face if Granger was actually revealing an important secret.

"Lead me to the weapon," Umbridge said, and Draco's neck almost snapped from the speed with which he turned it.

"I'm not showing... _them_," Granger said, looking pointedly at the Slytherins.

"It is not for you to set conditions," Umbridge said with a harsh smile. Draco agreed completely. He definitely wanted to see this "weapon" of theirs, and even if there wasn't a weapon, he wanted to go, just to know what was going on. Potter interested him in that way. It was almost like a disease. Draco knew there was a nasty expression of greed on his face, but it was for a very different reason than what the others probably thought.

Umbridge looked at him after Granger said something that would most likely end up with Draco remaining in the office, and he cursed silently to himself when he couldn't change his greedy expression fast enough. Umbridge said that she would go alone with Granger and Potter, and Draco knew he had to intervene. "Professor," he began, "Professor Umbridge, I think some of the squad should come with you to look after –"

"I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?" Umbridge guffawed.

Draco knew exactly what his father would say, but for once, he decided to bite the wand and do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to go with Granger and Umbridge and Potter to see this weapon (if it even existed). Call him selfish, call him a prat, call him downright stupid; this was what he wanted.

Malfoys were known for getting what they want.

Before Umbridge could continue what she was about to say, Draco interrupted her. "But Professor," he said, in his most innocent voice, adopting a look of worry, "even if they are wandless, there are two of them, and we all know Potter's not afraid to fight like a Muggle." Draco pointedly remembered the fight on the Quidditch pitch between him and Potter and one of the Weasley twins that had taken place because he'd insulted their mothers. His jaw had ached for days afterward. "I'm just worried for your safety. We know Potter is... unstable."

Umbridge looked surprised at that, but seemed to think that she could still stop them with magic (which she could, definitely, but that wasn't the _point_). She was about to open her mouth when Draco continued, "The others can stay behind and guard these students –" he motioned to the Weasleys, Longbottom, and Lovegood – "and I can come with you to make sure Potter doesn't do anything stupid." Umbridge still looked skeptical, so he added one more line. "I think it's best to take precaution in these types of situations; after all, this could be a trap of some sort." Draco didn't think it was, but, again, that didn't really matter. What mattered was getting what he wanted.

Draco waited for Umbridge to agree with him with a polite expression on his face. There was no way she could deny him.

Umbridge looked back at Potter and Granger and saw the hateful glares on their faces. Maybe that was what decided her, in the end. "All right, Draco," she said, reverting back to his first name. "Only you may come, and only because I _am_ worried about Potter's... stability." She simpered. "_Do_ keep an eye on him for me." Then she waltzed to the door, prodding Granger in the back with her wand. "You'll walk in front of me, girl," she said. "Lead the way."

Granger walked out the door without further prodding, and Draco grabbed Potter's arm roughly and led him out the door after them. He could feel the betrayed glares of his fellow Slytherins on his back, could hear Potter cursing at him and trying to get his arm out of Draco's grasp, and could feel the weight of both his and Potter's wands in his robes, and he knew that Potter would not be able to get his back easily. Draco's mouth watered as he followed Granger and Umbridge through the corridor, because, for the moment, he knew how it felt to be completely triumphant.

* * *

The moment didn't last long.

Potter was trying to tear his arm out of Draco's grasp. "I can walk by myself, Malfoy!" He gave a great jerk that made Draco have to clench his fingers even tighter; probably tight enough to leave a bruise.

"Now now, Potter," he replied, "Don't want you to go running off, do we?" He sneered down at Potter, who was at least four inches shorter than himself.

Potter growled at him, actually _growled_, and turned away, huffing angrily. He didn't stop pulling at his arm. They followed Umbridge and Granger, who was leading the way, past the Great Hall where sounds of dinner could be heard, and out the front entrance. Potter looked mildly surprised at the turn of events, Draco noticed from the corner of his eye. He used the opportunity to quickly move his grip on Potter from his arm to his wrist. Potter tried to snatch his arm away again, looking disgusted, but Draco had a firmer grip now, since he could actually wrap his fingers all the way around the appendage.

They continued their trek across the grounds, heading toward the great oaf's cabin. "It's hidden in Hagrid's hut, is it?" Umbridge asked, looking back at Potter.

"Of course not," Granger answered. "Hagrid might have set it off accidentally."

Umbridge agreed that yes, he would, and said some offending things about the half-breed that Draco agreed with, but seemed to make Potter very irritated. He glared at the back of Umbridge's head with a hateful expression on his face, and he stopped trying to yank his wrist away from Draco's grip.

"Then... where is it?" Umbridge asked, and she sounded uncertain.

"In there, of course," Granger said, sounding as pompous as always, pointing toward the dark forest behind the cabin. Draco sneered. "It had to be somewhere that students weren't going to find it accidentally, didn't it?"

"Of course," Umbridge said, even though her tone of voice said she didn't want to go into the forbidden forest. Draco didn't blame her. He still remembered the night he was forced to serve detention with Potter and his stupid friends and the oaf, Hagrid. He had had nightmares of seeing that cloaked figure chasing him for weeks afterward.

_But_, he reconciled, _that was in first year. I'm sure I can handle it now, and I did come out here to see the "weapon" after all. _

The four of them were almost to the entrance of the forest, when Umbridge turned around, effectively making their group come to a halt. "Draco," she said, "Stay behind and watch Potter." Draco opened his mouth in protest, but she continued, "I'll go into the forest with Granger and see the weapon, and you two will wait here until we get back."

"But, Professor," Draco argued –

"Do as I say!" Umbridge's eyes bulged out of their sockets, and her glare was actually frightening. Draco gave her credit for that at least, and resigned himself to waiting outside the forest.

_At least Potter's here._

Draco was horrified at himself for letting that thought cross his mind. As if anyone would actually _want_ to be alone with Harry Potter? Potty was currently watching Umbridge and Granger as they entered the forest, and he looked angry enough to burst. He turned to glare at Draco, and there was an unhealthy gleam in his eyes. Draco let go of his wrist and moved a step back, grabbing for his wand, but Potter was faster, and he lunged at Draco, bearing him to the ground.

Draco was pants at Muggle fighting, so he just went along for the ride as they rolled over each other in the momentum of the fall. Draco landed on his back as they stopped and let out an undignified yelp that he would _deny _he made if anyone asked; his head was throbbing slightly from making contact with the ground, and when he tried to move his hands to reach for his wand, he found he couldn't because they were pinned to the ground by Potter's knees.

"Where's my wand, Malfoy?" Potter snarled, taking a fistful of Draco's robes in one hand, and Draco gasped at the sensation of both being lifted and being this close to the Golden Boy. Draco had no intention of giving Potter his wand back, so he said nothing, and they glared at each other for a few seconds before Potter let go of his robes, and his head fell back to the grass.

Potter then proceeded to wrench open Draco's robes and look for his wand that way. Draco muffled a gasp; he knew that Potter would never get his wand without Draco's permission, but that didn't mean Draco wanted Potter's hands searching inside of his robes.

"Get off, Potter!" he said indignantly, and he arched, trying to throw the smaller boy off. It should have been easy, but Potter pressed down on his wrists, and he was unable to get any part of his body except his head off the ground. Then he tried kicking his legs, hoping for them to somehow throw Potter off, but all that did was make him feel utterly stupid, his legs waving about in the air, and he resolved to not do that again.

Meanwhile, Potter was muttering obscenities under his breath, and he gave up on looking in Draco's robes, apparently, since he started running his hands across Draco's chest and abdomen. Draco yelped and tried to ignore the fact that Potter was _straddling_ _him_ –

"_Accio_ wand!" Potter said, and was pissed when nothing happened.

Draco tried to throw Potter off him again, and almost succeeded, but Potter bore him back to the ground with a growl, and actually _shoved his arse_ onto Draco, holding down his nether regions. Draco would have been mortified, except that Potter didn't seem to notice at all. He kept determinedly searching for his wand, saying, "Where is it, Malfoy? Where is it!" repeatedly. Draco squirmed and wanted to cry in frustration as Potter moved his arse against Draco, probably trying to stench his squirming.

Draco opened his eyes, not realizing until now they had been clenched shut, and stopped moving altogether, hoping that Potter would notice that he wouldn't ever find his wand this way, and that he would get off of Draco before things became embarrassing. Draco closed his eyes again and wondered at how things had suddenly become like this. He clenched his teeth together to stop a moan from escaping his lips as Potter shifted above him.

Draco's cock was slowly coming to life against his will, and he released his breath in a pant. He began to struggle again, and kept struggling until Potter and him were wrestling on the grass; Potter's hands were all over him, and he was making a low growling sound with his throat, and it might have been the sexiest thing Draco had ever heard.

To Draco's horror, he was quickly becoming more and more aroused. He kicked his legs and Potter reached behind him and_ squeezed_ Draco's thigh, really fucking hard, and the jolt of pain made his cock twitch, and Draco had no idea his thighs were so sensitive.

_What the fuck is happening?_ Draco thought, now completely hard and turned on.

Potter snarled loudly and moved so that he pinned Draco down with his body. He wrapped one arm around Draco's neck so that he could hold Draco's shoulder down with his hand and intertwined their legs together so that when Draco tried to move Potter kept him in place, and as a consequence Draco's cock was pressed directly into Potter's thigh. In this new position, Draco couldn't move his arms at all, or any part of his upper body. Any time he tried Potter would push him to the ground with his free arm, all the while grinding himself on Draco in a _very_ distracting way...

It was lucky for Draco that Potter was an oblivious twat. Potter seemed content to thrash around with him on the grass, probably reveling in his superior position, and had taken absolutely no notice to Draco's predicament.

Meanwhile, Draco was losing control.

Potter's heavy breaths were cascading over his face, and it should have been disgusting, but it wasn't, and Draco was breathing him in and gritting his teeth and _when did Potter get so sexy? _

Draco struggled and struggled, wanting more of that delicious friction. Potter's chest was flush against his, and his pelvis was grinding, and oh, it was so good; so warm and firm, and Draco wanted to squeeze Potter's swaying arse and spread his cheeks and dip his finger in between so he could watch Potter squirm...

He wanted to grab Potter's slender hips and dry-fuck him until he came...

Draco's body was too hot; he could feel his cheeks and neck flushing, and if Potter kept moving like that he would come in his trousers. He bit back a moan and watched Potter's face, hoping against hope that he wouldn't notice Draco was surreptitiously fucking him, arching his pelvis as much as he could.

Draco knew he was going to come in his pants if they didn't stop soon. He could feel his release building in every clenching muscle, and he knew that Potter would know if he came, and Potter would look at him with horror and disgust and Draco would die from the humiliation, he honestly would. If they stopped now, Potter would remain blissfully oblivious, and no one would ever have to know that this had happened.

Draco had never wanted to come so much in is life, but with an enormous amount of effort he took control of himself and the situation.

"GET OFF!" He yelled, and with a new-found surge of strength that was born in desperation he got his right arm free of Potter's grip, and he thrust his fist into Potter's jaw, punching him as hard as he could. Potter reeled back from him, blood trickling out of the side of his mouth, as Draco clutched at his aching hand. "The fuck!" he yelled in his confusion. If Muggle fighting hurt this bad, why on earth did they do it?

Draco shook out his hand and quickly reached for his wand as Potter sat up and moved toward him, an incredulous, murderous look on his face. Draco made sure his erection was covered by his robes before he scrambled to his feet. "Get a hold of yourself, Potter, or I'll hex you into oblivion!" he warned, and Potter stilled, looking at Draco's wand cautiously. He still had a rather manic look about him, which confused and unnerved Draco. What the bloody hell was so important about a weapon that Dumbledore had in the forbidden forest?

Draco and Potter stared at each other, both breathing heavily, and Draco was both thankful for loose robes and angry that they still needed to be loose, even though Potter wasn't on top of him anymore. His cock throbbed and ached, and he wanted to throw Potter to the ground and hold him there.

"Where's my wand, Malfoy?" Potter asked in a calmer voice, absently wiping blood off his lower lip. "You have it, don't you?" he continued, and then he looked genuinely worried. "If you've done something to my wand, Malfoy, I swear I'll –"

"Relax, Potter," Draco drawled, "Your wand is fine." Draco hadn't even been thinking about Potter's wand in the recent turn of events, and he paused for a moment. "In fact, I have it right here." He quietly murmured the counter charm to his mother's spell, and pulled Potter's holly wand out of his robe pocket. Potter's eyes immediately latched on to it, and Draco could almost see his thoughts swirling around in his head as he tried to think of ways to get it back.

"I'll return it to you," Draco said, and Potter perked, "If you cooperate."

Potter studied him for a moment, weighing his options. To Draco's surprise (and delight) he said, "Fine. Just make it quick."

Draco's mouth dried out as he contemplated what he could make Potter do... Thoughts like_ suck my cock_ and_ let me spank_ you and _kiss me, you arse _came unbidden to his mind, and he caught himself, thinking, _Something must be seriously wrong with me. _Draco quickly back-tracked from his train of thought and decided he'd ask a question instead.

"Fine. What weapon is Dumbledore hiding in the forest?" Draco figured he might as well find out, since that was why he came out with them in the first place.

To his surprise, Potter laughed. The sound did something weird to his nerves. "There is no weapon!" he shouted, and he laughed some more, although Draco didn't think it was all that funny.

"What are Granger and Umbridge doing in the forest, then?" he asked.

"I don't know! Now give me my wand so I can go find out!"

Potter lunged at him then, like some sort of great cat, and Draco was about to hex him –

_"Petrificus totalus!" _

Draco's arms snapped to his sides and he fell over onto his back, stiff as a board. Potter landed on him with a thud, and Draco couldn't even wince. He stared up at the darkening sky with a ridiculous expression on his face, and saw Potter take his wand back out of the corner of his eye.

"Thanks, Ron," Potter said, giving Weasley a smile.

"No problem," Weasley replied, and Draco would have sneered if he could move his damn mouth. Weasley was way too pleased for only have succeeded in casting a body-bind. And never mind that it had been at Draco's back!

Draco seethed as Longbottom, Lovegood, and the Weasley girl came into view. He felt a moment of true anger at his housemates. They couldn't even contain three Gryffindors and a loony Ravenclaw! It was downright embarrassing. Through Draco's haze of anger, he didn't notice that Potter was heading to the forest, group in tow. He watched as best he could as they jogged into the trees; Potter's voice could be heard above the others.

Then they were out of sight, and Draco vaguely wondered if his housemates were going to come down. He hoped not. Not only did he not want them to see him in a body-bind, but there was a chance their superior minds might notice his little problem. Well, Draco amended, Vince and Greg wouldn't notice, but Pansy surely would; she looked down there often enough.

Draco glared at nothing as he waited for his confinement to wear off. His thoughts drifted to his earlier interaction with Potter. Was he really that stupid? Did he honestly think that sitting on a man's cock wouldn't cause problems for said man? Draco gave a mental groan. Doesn't he know the effect he has on people?

_Obviously not. _

So now here Draco was, suffering and unable to move. And then, of course, Draco asked about the weapon, and Potter said there hadn't been one in the first place! Draco wanted to scream. What a wasted effort. There was the chance that Potter was lying, of course, but Draco doubted it. Potter wasn't _that_ convincing of a liar.

The sky continued to darken and Draco wondered at the lack of activity around him. He was sure that his housemates weren't coming now, but he thought it strange that Potter hadn't come out of the forest yet. Come to that, Umbridge hadn't come out either. And if there wasn't really a weapon, why would they be gone so long? Draco briefly imagined Potter and his friends being attacked by a monster in the forest.

Hmm. Somehow, it wasn't that amusing. Something was definitely wrong with him.

The sun was below the horizon and stars were peeking out by the time Draco could move again. He shook out his arms and legs before palming his erection. He rubbed his fingers against it as he searched for a cluster of trees to hide behind while he took care of himself. He was originally going to wait until he got back to the castle, but his cock ached and throbbed, and his erection wasn't going to go away on its own. Not for the first time, Draco wished he knew the spell that erased arousal.

He went, walking stiffly, behind the cover of a few trees at the edge of the forest, and sat down, pulling his trousers and pants down to his knees in one tug. He gripped his cock with one hand and placed the other on the ground for balance. He tried not to think about Potter, but couldn't help himself. He recalled Potter's arse and growling noises, the way they thrashed on the ground together, the way Potter squeezed his thigh; he moaned as his orgasm overtook him, his head thrown back, teeth clenched, chest heaving.

Draco leaned against the tree for a few moments, just breathing, before casting a cleaning charm on his trousers. He pulled them back up and stood shakily. He felt clouded with fogginess as he made his way back to the castle, deciding he wasn't going to wait for Potter or Umbridge or anyone else to turn up. His whole body was warm, as if the sun was out instead of the moon, and tingles of aftershock coursed through him.

He strode up the grounds and made it into the entrance hall virtually unnoticed. He walked at a slower pace than usual to his common room, and completely ignored his housemates; he was angry at them, but would express that anger the next day, when he was more alert. Up in his dormitory, Draco changed into his nightclothes and tucked himself into bed, pulling the curtains closed around him, feeling numb.

He fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Draco awakened the next morning and wondered if it all had been a dream. It had to have been. There was no way that Draco Malfoy could ever be attracted to Harry Potter, even if it was purely sexual. It seemed too real to be a dream, though, and Draco's suspicions were proved correct as he met the apprehensive faces of the Slytherins who had let Potter's friends escape from Umbridge's office.

Draco remained quiet on the way to breakfast, too mortified with himself to speak, even in anger. He was feeling confused, and thinking fast.

_Last night I was turned on by Potter being on top of me. _

Draco could cope with that. He wasn't some super-human who was oblivious to friction (unlike Potter seemed to be...).

_Once I got free of the body-bind, I jerked off whilst thinking about Potter. _

That was what made Draco grimace with distaste. What did it mean? Draco could admit that Potter was quite sexy (to himself), but that didn't meant he was _attracted_ to him. Perish the thought! Draco Malfoy, being attracted to Harry Potter? Draco didn't even like Potter... Did he?

Draco took his seat at the Slytherin table, his heart rate increasing.

He glanced at the Gryffindor table, locating Potter, who was seated with his back to him. Potter's hair was even messier than usual this morning, and Draco itched to run his fingers through it and _pull_ –

_No!_ he thought, dragging his gaze away. _No! I am not attracted to Potter, I do not like Potter, I do not like Potter! _

He was having a hard time believing himself, since all he could think about was Potter's chest against his and surprisingly strong arms –

"Draco?"

Pansy's voice was horrified, and when he looked to his left at her, so was her expression. She pointed to the article on the front page of the_ Daily Prophet_, and Draco's stomach dropped through the floor once he saw the headline that adorned it.

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is Back! _

Draco read the article with fear clawing at his chest, not believing a word it said. There was no way that Potter and his friends went to the Ministry of Magic last night, no way that they were attacked by Death Eaters, and no _way _that the Dark Lord showed himself in a battle with Dumbledore! Even more impossible were the words that said his father had been caught and sent to Azkaban. _His_ father!

Draco's hands clutched at the paper once he finished reading, and suddenly he could feel every eye in the Great Hall on him. He stared at the picture in front of him, denial coursing through his blood. It couldn't be true. His father in Azkaban... impossible. He looked up at the sound of flapping wings, seeing his mother's owl. As he read through her letter, his worst fears were confirmed, and he looked over at Potter, and the only emotions he felt were anger and hatred, because it was all Potter's fault, of course it was, and Draco welcomed the familiar emotions with open arms, his earlier predicament no longer a problem, not even worth a moment of his time.

It was with relief and glee and the promise of vindictive revenge for what was done to his father that Draco could think, _I hate you, Harry Potter, _and Draco knew both that it was truer than ever, and that even considering what had happened the night before, nothing had changed between them.

_I still hate you, Harry Potter. _

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
